


whither thou goest

by fardareismai



Series: Imagine Claire and Jamie (Prompts from the blog that I have fulfilled) [7]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, murtagh is alive because i want him to be, voyager canon divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:58:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5085823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai/pseuds/fardareismai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine if Murtagh came with Jamie and Claire to Frasers Ridge</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

From the window of my surgery, I watched the two men ascend the hill to the big house, bright ruddy head bent toward the grey one a foot below it, deferential. Respectful of his godfather even as a man well-grown in his own right.

Some things, I thought, watching them, would never change.  Murtagh was nearly eighty now, bent-backed as he had never been when first I’d known him, but the old energy was still there, the sense of great potential kept leashed under a mask of insouciance.  His hands were crabbed with arthritis, and he carried a heavy walking stick everywhere he went, but his steps were sure, and those black rat’s eyes were un-clouded by age and as sharp as broken glass.  For all he moved more slowly over the ground he was still, as Jamie had once told me, as fast as chain lightning on a horse.

And he still commanded Jamie’s respect and love.

When I had returned from the future to Jamie and found him, Murtagh, Fergus, and a selection of other men smuggling whiskey and brandy into Scotland from France, it had been, to my surprise, Murtagh who had proven my greatest ally.  Where Fergus, Ian, Jenny, and even Jamie himself had all been inclined to stare in shock and horror at my reappearance, Murtagh had simply seemed to accept that of course I was back.

“ **I always knew you couldna leave him forever,** ” he’d said, cryptically.

I had learned that he had traveled between the lake district of England and Lallybroch twice a year for nearly a decade to ensure that Jamie was kept notified of his family’s doings in exile.  He had kept Jenny from her attempts to marry Jamie off in the years after he had returned.  And it had been he who had, when it became clear that Lallybroch was no longer Jamie’s proper place, bullied Jamie into seeking his fortunes in the wider world, providing me with the final sign needed to find him and return to him.

And then, when Scotland had proven unwelcoming to me and dangerous for Jamie yet again, it had been Murtagh who had stood at my left hand on the deck of Jared’s ship, Jamie at my right, watching those craggy shores fade into the horizon.

The front door to the big house opened and the deep rumble of those two voices speaking Gaelic together seemed to vibrate the very floorboards, resonating at the frequency of the house, and at the frequency of my own heart.

I turned to my cabinet of medicines to bring down the ointment that I used on Murtagh’s arthritic joints, for as much as things stay the same, there are things that change as well. Murtagh- always wary of my medical skills in earlier days- had become, in America, the champion of “Herself’s” medicaments.  He was in my surgery weekly for the arthritis, and less frequently for any other concern he thought I might be able to take a hand in.  The tenants, particularly the Scottish ones, trusted Murtagh’s judgment implicitly, and his willingness to come to me waylaid many of their own fears.

They were at the door to my surgery then, two faces as strong and durable as Scottish granite, one smiling, the other dour, and I was glad- so  _terribly_  glad- that they were  _mine_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was wondering I always thought it was sad that Murtagh never got to meet Brianna so maybe you could do a story about Murtagh being alive when Bree came to Fraser's Ridge

A shadow fell across the cabin from the door and I glanced up from my bottles of herbs to find Murtagh blinking in the dimness.

“Still haven’t heard anything?” he asked, glancing around and finding that my home was still empty of the rest of my family.

“No,” I answered with a sigh.  “If they got the trial deferred like they wanted, it would only have taken place a week ago.  If not… well… I’d have hoped we’d have a message by now.  Either way, we should hear something soon.  Have you had lunch yet?”

Murtagh grunted in a negative manner and I waved him toward the scrubbed wood table while I dug about in the pantry for some bread, butter, and ham.  Once these were placed in front of him, I was able to go back to my herbs.  Murtagh was the pleasant sort of person who can share space with another but feel no compulsion to talk, nor require to be entertained, or even paid much attention to.  He was rather soothing for that, in fact.

I found myself humming quietly a song I hadn’t thought of in more years than I wanted to consider.

“Fools rush in where wise men fear to go. But wise men never fall in love so how are they to know?” I murmured.

Our peace was interrupted by Clarence the mule’s bray of welcome.  I met Murtagh’s black eyes for an instant, then we were both hurrying to the door to greet what news was coming.

The sight that met our eyes left both of us reeling: Jamie helping a young woman off a horse.

A very beautiful young woman.

A very beautiful young woman with long red hair in a tight plait down her back.

A very beautiful young woman who, when her feet hit the ground stood not-quite four inches shorter than Jamie himself.

A very beautiful young woman with viking bones pressing through the skin of her face.  A face I knew so very well.

“Brianna,” I breathed in shock at the same moment that Murtagh said, in the same tone, “Ellen.”

We looked at each other, both slightly bewildered before understanding came.

“Our daughter, Brianna,” I explained softly, gesturing vaguely at the pair still in the paddock.

Murtagh’s eyes were over-bright.  “Aye.  Of course she is.  Lost my head.”  He cleared his throat with that deep, grumbling sound that only Scots seem able to manage and closed his eyes for a moment.  When he opened them, he had himself under control- dour and stoic as ever.

“Best see what’s to do in Cross Creek, aye?”


End file.
